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“No? What do you mean no?”

“I didn’t say…“

“I’m not stupid, you know? I know how to read between the lines, okay? You’re basically just saying no and I want to know why. Why not? Why give me the mountain ash if you’re not going to teach me? Or at least point me in the right direction? Tell me something that actually makes sense, please, because I don’t like my own explanation for all this… or why you didn’t tell us anything about Jennifer or the alpha pack… or your own sister, for that matter.”

“Stiles!“

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.“

“Scott, say something!”

“I-I…“

“Oh my God, Scott, dammit! Fucking forget it, I’ll manage myself, like always. I don’t need anyone.

“Oh, come on, Stiles…”

“And just so you know, if you’re counting on me failing? Not fucking happening.“

Fucking happening, dammit.

Stiles is beyond frustrated. Where does he even start? Where does one find that kind of knowledge? Because surprising as it is, the Internet is not helping. He just knows everything he’s found is pure bullshit, but he’s becoming desperate enough to consider trying some of the rituals… and he’s not looking forward to dancing stark naked covered in cow blood or whatever, in the middle of a new moon night.

(Breaking into Deaton’s looks as fruitful an endeavor as that midnight trip.)

One thing is for sure, if these websites are handled by real magicals or supernaturals, or whatever they’re called, they’re getting their kicks out of trolling people into kingdom come and then back.

He lets his head bang into the table with a frustrated groan and his dinner’s dishes rattle.

“What is it?“ his dad asks from the couch, where he’s watching the game.

“Nothing,” he answers mulish, his voice muffled by the table.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.“

“Let me explain my statement then: nothing you can help me with. Just some information I’m having trouble finding for a project.”

His father makes a skeptical sound and raises from the couch with a groan. He can hear him coming near.

“A project has you like this? Try again.“

“Of course you wouldn’t believe me,“ Stiles mutters sourly in an imperceptible whisper.

“Stiles?“ John asks worried, laying a hand on his nape. “What was that?”

Stiles raises his head and rubs his face frustrated, then he forces a smile in his father’s direction. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted from lacrosse today and kinda had a spat with Scott.” He raises from the chair, grabbing his laptop and heading in the direction of the stairs. “I’m gonna call it a day and go to sleep, okay?”

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?“

“Yeah, sure.” Talk he could, but would he actually listen or believe what he said? he thinks bitterly. “Good night, dad.”

“Good night, son.“

Stiles wakes up with a start, standing up abruptly. He scrambles to grab his laptop, heart thundering in his chest, and waits for it to boot impatiently.

“Come on…“

The moment it does, he launches the explorer and searches for the web. He doesn’t remember in which one he saw… Ten webs and more than an hour later, he’s about to throw the laptop to the ground in frustration. Where was it, dammit.

The fanfiction page, maybe? That the only site he hasn’t rechecked… He only entered there because it showed after he searched werewolves and hunters…

(It’s his last shot, because if he remembers well, that was a horribly written story about the forbidden love between a werewolf and a hunter in the medieval times, and how a dragonesque creature attacked them and… he doesn’t even know why he read the whole thing, honestly. It was as if he was sucked in and he couldn’t stop.)

There it is.

He presses his lips to contain the victorious shout. He vibrates in his seat. There, hidden in that hideous background and tacky colored lettering, there’s a fact that only someone in the know would know. It’s really subtle, and if Stiles hadn’t suffered the effects of the venom of a kanima himself, he wouldn’t have caught it. As it is, the rest of the post (even the name of the creature that expels the venom) is utter bullshit.

For some reason, he reads it again entirely.

He searches the entire web for more clues, because there’s not even an ask box to try and contact the webmaster or any of the authors. By the time his alarm rings, he hasn’t found anything else that he can identify, but he’s humble enough to understand that that’s probably a problem caused more by his own ignorance that the actual absence of more clues.

He goes back to the story.

Five minutes more, he thinks, checking the clock… and he’s nearly late because he reads it from start to finish, again.

What the?

He spends the day in a haze, just half awake and not paying any attention. Scott tries to approach him two times but finally gives up and gives him space, which doesn’t stop the hopeful puppy looks he shoots at him every time their eyes catch. By the end of school, he’s vibrating with the need of going home to try to decipher the mystery of that damn story. He shots from his seat the moment the ring bells, almost running to his jeep and ignoring Scott like he’s done all day.

When he finally gets home, he pulls the web up on his laptop… and then suffers a major disappointment. The paragraph with the real information about the kanima venom has changed slightly and he no longer feels compelled to read the whole thing.

Baffled doesn’t even begin to cover how Stiles feels at the moment.

No, he’s not going to give up.

He starts rereading everything again. If the same effect of being sucked into the story doesn’t happen, he changes it and goes for the next. After two hours of crappy fanfiction and nothing happening, he starts to get frustrated. Maybe, if he doesn’t know the true supernatural fact it doesn’t happen? He’s doomed if that’s the case…

He forces himself to continue.

Fucking not happening, dammit, he reminds himself, thinking of Deaton and Scott.

Finally, after three hours, it happens again. This time, he can’t tell which is the real fact hidden in the story, but he rereads it continuously for another hour, trying to find a hidden message.

He finds none, and if he has to read the devirginizing of Claudette by the sparkling and creepy stalker vampire Artorius again, he’s going to pluck his own eyeballs out and crack his own cranium open to bleach it, he swears.

Reluctantly, he prepares something to have dinner for himself (his father has a night shift today) to try and clear his mind.

By three in the morning, he falls asleep on the chair.

When he gets back from school, it happens again. He bangs his head on the table in frustration and, after a few minutes of commiseration, he reads the whole thing five more times until he locates which paragraph has changed (the changes are that subtle) and writes the information in a notebook, even though he doesn’t know the name of the creature it refers to.

It’s rinse and repeat for three more days until a fact he knows shows up in one of the stories.

He reads the horrible thing about five times before he starts to try to force himself to break up the pull. By his tenth read (thank gosh is Saturday), he manages by stopping himself from finishing the entire paragraph. He realizes that the true fact is always in the middle of one, and that if he finishes the last sentence of it, the pull takes hold and forces him to finish the whole thing.

Maybe a combination of words that are a spell or something? Whatever it is, it’s on the first paragraph and on the last sentence of the true fact paragraph.

He files that for later, because he has no interest on rereading the raunchy adventures of Legolas and his lover (since when was Aragorn a werewolf??) all over Middle Earth. Seriously, if he ever reads The Lord of the Rings again, it will never be with the same eyes.

Nothing.

No sudden realization or magically appearing window after clicking at the paragraph, or the sentence with the true fact, and highlighting the thing doesn’t have any positive result.

On Sunday, he doesn’t get a breakthrough, either.

(What he gets a some texts from Scott that he scans just in case there’s an emergency, which is not the case.)

Well, that’s not exactly true. He does find out something between Saturday and Sunday.

He notices that the background is not a static thing, that when he scrolls down, it moves with the text, like it all is a big and large picture, so has the idea of taking a screenshot when he gets to the fact paragraph.

He opens that image with the viewer and, sure enough, the pulling effect happens again, even though it’s not the actual web. He tries covering part of it with his hand, trying to pinpoint where exactly in it is whatever thing that makes that happen. It takes him a while, but he does.

Even with that, he can’t see a thing.

He mules over it for a bit, before having an idea. He opens the image with the editor and sharpens its contrasts as much as he can.

“Fucking motherfucker!“

Runes. Runes in a slightly lighter tone that the rest of the background. Whoever did this is a devious little shit and Stiles is reluctantly impressed. He repeats the process with the part of the background of beginning of the story and, awesome (note the sarcasm), Elder Futhark, which he can’t translate.

Sure enough, when he does the same on Sunday, the runes are gone from the background.

So yeah, he’s found out something new, but, no, not much of a breakthrough.

On Wednesday, he’s so exhausted that he feels like drugged. He contemplates skipping practice, but just the thought of having Coach hunt him down makes him sick. His face must be epic, though, because the moment he sees him, the man makes him sit on the bench for the whole practice. Stiles appreciates the gesture but not the insult to his ladylike constitution nor Jackson or Isaac’s snickers. Scott throws a concerned look at him, but like always, doesn’t intervene to defend Stiles from their whispered taunts.

He grits his teeth with the sudden flood of anger that fills him. He doesn’t need saving from anyone, but that doesn’t mean… He shakes his head and decides to concentrate on his current enigma.

Maybe it’s sudden inspiration or the sight of Danny, but a possible solution strikes Stiles with the force of a bus’ frontal collision. Or a Boeing 747. Whichever is stronger.

Hacking.

Maybe the answer is in the code? Okay, this might be it actually. It might sound farfetched, but taking into account the devious way they hid the runes, and the way they change the story that contains the true fact, it’s really not that implausible.

Now what? Because Stiles knowledge of hacking is limited at best. Sure, he can hack Coach’s crappy old as fuck computer to change his screensaver for the picture of a furry guy in a thong, but he has the feeling this is going to be more complicated than that. He rubs his face frustrated. He eyes Danny.

From Scott: Are you still angry?

From Scott: Come ooooonnnn. Please Stiles?

From Scott: Whatever I did I’m sorry.

From Scott: I need my best friend?

To Scott: And I needed you the other day.

To Scott: Look at that, we can’t always have what we want.

To Scott: Do you like the feeling? Because I sure as hell don’t. And I’ve been receiving a lot of that lately and it sucks balls.

From Scott: What are you talking about????

To Scott: Of course you wouldn’t even notice.

From Scott: Man, I really don’t know where this is coming from.

From Scott: Stiles?

From Scott: Stiles, come on! Not the ignoring thing again.

From Scott: Fine. When you cool down talk to me again.

Stiles throws the phone to the table with a frustrated sound. Of course it’s just immature Stiles throwing a tantrum.

“Are you trying to blackmail me?“ Danny asks incredulous.

“I asked nicely first, even offered a compensation, and you said no,” he answers, not exactly proud of his stand, but one has to do what one has to do. He can’t keep going like this. If he has to read any more plothole filled and horribly written fanfiction, he’ll go nuts. Or commit suicide.

Danny eyes him for a minute, frown deepening with each passing second. “This is really important to you,” he states plainly. Stiles nods and Danny sighs. “I feel like I’m going to regret this. One week. I’ll give you a one week crash course and then you’re on your own.” Stiles sags with relief, nodding. The other teen turns to leave, but then stops. “You’re going to need a new laptop, by the way. Tell me when you get one and we’ll start.”

Stiles spends a week selling more essays on the Internet than he has ever before, to get the cash he needs to get a new laptop. After he buys it, then they spend a week going over everything that Danny feels he needs to know. It helps that Stiles has a basic knowledge about hacking, but still it’s harder than anything he’s done before.

Who knew Danny could be such a taskmaster?

From coding to actual hacking (both of which he previously knew a little about, but nowhere near enough), he tells Stiles where to go, what to study, what to never ever do.

The week ends, and Stiles is left on his own.

He spends the last week of school, then easter vacation, then a whole month more, eating, drinking and basically breathing coding, hacking and anything even remotely connected to that before attempting to put any of that into practice.

(He’s vaguely aware of some supernatural something happening in the periphery about some omega passing by, but since he’s lined the perimeter of his house with mountain ash, it goes largely ignored. If Scott really needs his help, he has his number, and since so far he’s only gotten sporadic bitching texts, he supposes he’s not really needed.)

He finally gets why Danny made him get a second computer when he has to start practicing what he’s learned so far. He starts by making a copy of everything he has on his other computer, and then proceeds to hack the hell out of himself. He has to learn how to fix what he destroys, how to protect against his own attacks, how to reboot the whole thing when nothing is salvageable.

After that, feeling more confident, he goes back to Danny to be assessed. He looks like he wants to protest, but takes a look at Stiles’ earnest expression and gives in. Afterwards, reluctantly impressed, he pronounces him slightly over an amateur hacker and points him in the right direction again.

In the end, as always, Stiles overdoes it, because the actual hacking of the web is not that difficult. It has little protection, like they want it easy for people to be able to get in (he’d have been able to hack it with the basic knowledge he initially had), because the key to where to find the information you seek is hidden so well that you have to know where it is to find it. Nonetheless, Stiles is left baffled, again.

He’s starting to get tired of that.

Danny sighs long-suffering when he sees him approach, but he makes a gesture at him to beckon him closer. Stiles grins bashfully. “Surprise me.”

“So… extension dot onion?“

There’s a beat of silence during which Danny’s eyebrows nearly reach his hairline. Stiles fidgets.

“First of all, I really don’t want to know what do you want from the Darknet, okay? Second, you’re gonna need the Tor package. Third, let’s go over some rules before you get swatted.”

(Don’t use your real name or a pseud you’re going to use anywhere else not Darknet; don’t use your real email, but create a throwaway one; if you buy something, never pay with a credit card, or if you pay with Bitcoin, use a site that provides an escrow service; careful with viruses, especially if you’re going to download anything, so make your laptop a damn fortress and scan, scan and scan; if it looks too good to be true, it’s too good to be true; when in doubt, don’t risk it.)

Finally he’s getting somewhere, dammit.

“Feeling better?“ his father asks.

“Yeah. Not fucking happening, dad, I’m the boss!"

“Language. But I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m going out, try to go to bed early, ok? You look like a racoon.”

“Okaaaayyy.“

A week later, Stiles finally (finally!) solves the mystery of the crappy fanfiction website, finds Neverland (not so inconspicuous, the name of the site) in the Darknet, and makes contact with the moderator. A window pops up with a private chat the moment he enters.

He gets the feeling he’s being tested, but he kind of expected that, so he bears with it. After nearly ten minutes, he gets the urge to bash his head repeatedly until he gives himself a concussion when he has enough courage to actually joke about the fanfiction and who the hell writes that? And you fuckers are sadistic with the way you’ve hidden the information, dammit and he gets a reaction he didn’t expect.

BeWaterMyFriend: You did what?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I don’t like that this surprises you… Wasn’t I supposed to do that…?

BeWaterMyFriend: Brb.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Ok?

WiseOldLotus has joined the chat.

VeganIsTheAnswer has joined the chat.

BigBadWalnut has joined the chat.

NoWinePlease has joined the chat.

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly has joined the chat.

LoveCatnip has joined the chat.

InsertEvilLaughterHere has joined the chat.

Oh, crap. Stiles doesn’t have a very good feeling about all this.

BeWaterMyFriend: Explain again?

Stiles bites his lip dubiously. None of the users that have just joined the chat have said anything yet, and that makes him nervous. Before he can decide, another message pops up.

BeWaterMyFriend: Please, you’re not in trouble. If the runes drew you in instead of making you want to leave, we know you’re supposed to be here.

BeWaterMyFriend: But that’s not how you were supposed to find this site, and if there’s a breach of security, we need to know.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I just did simple SQL injection? And accessed the database, then the post with the runes. The direction was in the coding?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: How was I supposed to do it?

BeWaterMyFriend: Did you not break the pull from the runes?

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Stop talking, if he doesn’t know he shouldn’t be here. Kick Yoda out.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Hey! I did break the pull!!!

InsertEvilLaughterHere: How?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Is this a trick question?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: By not finishing the paragraph?

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Wrong answer.

WiseOldLotus: Not if he’s a newbie. You always forget that not everyone has people in the know around.

WiseOldLotus: You sound young. How long have you been aware?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I suppose you’re talking about the magic and stuff?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Almost a year, I think.

WiseOldLotus: How did you find out?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Best friend got bitten and it went downhill from there.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: How was I supposed to break the pull?

BeWaterMyFriend: By noticing it. That should have been enough and the direction would have revealed itself in the background.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Stop giving him information until we know for sure he’s not a threat.

LoveCatnip: There’s nothing in the code. I checked.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Told you.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Kick him out.

Stiles finally gets fed up. He’s so very tired and he wants to scream in frustration. Ever since the whole supernatural fiasco started, nothing has gone right and it’s always half a step forward and like ten back. He can’t take it anymore. First Deaton and now some strangers reject him? Fuck it all.

He’ll find another way.

But first he’s going to say his piece.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: You know what? Fuck it. You don’t have to kick me out, I’m leaving.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Nothing showed up. The direction was in the fucking code. Believe it or not. Don’t give a damn.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: First that cryptic fucker with that be a spark bullshit and now some strangers? I don’t have to take this.

WiseOldLotus: Now that sounds like a druid all right. You should have said you were a spark form the start, honey, it explains a lot.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: If you didn’t want anyone to find you, then your security is shit, so I’m not even sure I wanna be here anyway.

VeganIsTheAnswer: I resent that.

WiseOldLotus: I don’t know why when it’s true.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: So fuck you all. I’ll manage myself. I don’t need anyone.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Wait, what?

LoveCatnip: Wow, that’s some pent up anger. You should look into that before you start making things explode.

LoveCatnip: A damn spark. All this drama for nothing.

BeWaterMyFriend: True. Damn runes always act funny with sparks.

LoveCatnip: I’m out.

LoveCatnip has left the chat.

BigBadWalnut has left the chat.

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly has left the chat.

BeWaterMyFriend: Me too. Take care of this, Lotus?

WiseOldLotus: I will, dear.

BeWaterMyFriend has left the chat.

NoWinePlease has left the chat.

InsertEvilLaughterHere has left the chat.

WiseOldLotus: Okay, honey, I can see you’re a little lost.

WiseOldLotus: And I’ve always liked resourceful people.

WiseOldLotus: Let’s talk.

WiseOldLotus: The first helping hand is free.

Lotus’ helping hand comes in the form of pointers on how to find magical stores. Real magical stores.

Apparently, those aren’t just walk-in stores open to the general public, so you have to know where one is to get to it. Since that wouldn’t be good for business, they have little pointers throughout the town or city they are in, guiding would-be buyers to their location. Also, since that could be a big security risk, they normally are warded to hell a back against anyone that means them harm.

Of course, there have been cases of fake pointers made by people to trap magicals, so going into the quest of finding stores that you don’t know beforehand is a risk on itself. And that’s without taking into account irritable and short-tempered shopkeepers that curse you just because they don’t like you. Stiles would be lying if he said he isn’t cowed by the perspective of being cursed for being irritating. He’s known for being irritating.

He just knows he’s going to get cursed.

Still, all the drawbacks certainly make the too-good-to-be-true situation not so good (he still remembers Danny’s rules), so at least that gives him some peace of mind.

(Stranger things have given him comfort.)

He spends another week and a half selling more essays on the Internet to raise another hundred bucks before he even attempts to search for a store at Beacon Hills.

He’s not very lucky on that endeavor. He manages to find the markings Lotus told him that lead to one, but when he gets there, the place in empty. The landlord of the building tells him that, from the old couple that used to live there, the lady died three years ago, and the man went to live with his son in Sacramento.

It’s a long shot, but he decides to go to Sacramento over the weekend. Since it’s just an hour away, he can get up really early in the morning and get back before his curfew.

Sacramento is huge compared to Beacon Hills, so it takes him about three hours to find the markings and another two to decipher them and actually find the store.

Finally, finally, he gets a stroke of luck.

On his way to the store after the third marking, he spots an old man struggling to carry some bags and nearly stumble with the weight. He takes pity on him and, since he’s going in the same direction anyways, he helps him after catching him before he nearly falls to the ground. He nearly regrets his decision, because, jeez, he’s cranky as hell and not grateful at all. Stiles, never one to back down, tells him so very clearly, even as he still carries the bags. The man looks surprised for a second, and then he continues bickering with him all the way to his house. Stiles even gets a raspy laughter out of him before they arrive. He bids him farewell with a jaunty wave and a playful insult and the old man cackles, infinitely amused for some reason.

He gets why when the markings lead him to that same house again after one hour.

“So you’re back,“ he grumbles, an amused spark in his eyes. “I was wondering how long would it take you.”

“You’re evil,“ he grumbles back at him.

“Just most of the time,” he cackles. “But us, old people, have to have our pleasures. You look like a newbie.”

“Is it that obvious?” Stiles groans.

“Painfully,“ he deadpans. “But I like you, so I’m going to do with you what some old fart, back in the day, did with my Ella when she was starting too and didn’t know what to do. And kill two birds with a stone, because I’m tired of this store nonsense when I’m no witch myself. How much do you have?“

“Ah, money? Three hundred more or less? I know it’s not much…”

“Give me two hundred, erase all the store markings both here and at a town called Beacon Hills, and everything is yours.“

“What?“ Stiles flails.

“And just for that stupid face, you’re weeding the garden too.”

And Stiles locates and erases each of the thirty markings spread all over Sacramento. And painstakingly plucks all the weeds of the garden. And goes back to Beacon Hills just in time not to miss curfew, only to sneak out the window to erase the twenty markings of Beacon Hills in the middle of the night, taking pictures of his progress as proof.

On Sunday, he goes back to Sacramento and to the old man’s house. The son and his wife look at him curiously as he loads his jeep, but say nothing.

Before leaving, he unplugs their kitchen’s sink’s pipes for good measure, to the old man’s amusement.

“Ah, are you sure there’s nothing else…“ he starts as he eyes the piles of books and other different things that fill his trunk.

“Get lost,” he grumbles in response as Stiles fidgets in front of his jeep. “And don’t get yourself blown up.”

“Cranky old man, I’m just trying…“

“Leave already, you irritating pest!”

“Rude fucker,“ Stiles grunts at him as he goes to the driver’s seat of his jeep.

“Disrespectful brat,” he grunts back at him before closing the door, successfully having the last word.

Stiles feels his irritating factor validated and he’s never ever changing.

For the next month and a half, Stiles tries to find a balance between not letting his grades drop and devouring Ella the witch’s admittedly vast collection, keeping up some kind of contact with the people of Neverland, and starting some experiments with what he’s learning. Again, he’s peripherally aware of the pack and their doings, but no shit seems to be going down, so he just continues doing his thing.

The mountain ash line around his house remains.

Then, one day, without even noticing it, he does something that changes the entire dynamics of Neverland: he shares information freely.

BigBadWalnut: And they’re multiplying.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Though luck.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Look at it this way, no more rat infestation. Isn’t that awesome?

KittyKat: Yeah.

KittyKat: Just lots of cockroaches.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: And mosquitoes.

KittyKat: And let’s not forget the larvae.

BigBadWalnut: You both are so funny.

BigBadWalnut: Not.

NoWinePlease: Children, behave.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: And lighting them on fire hasn’t worked?

BigBadWalnut: What?

BigBadWalnut: Fire works against them?

BigBadWalnut: I mean.

BigBadWalnut: They’re in the sewers, do you want us to blow up the whole town?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Mmmm…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Give me a sec.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: This is revenge for our warm welcome, I think.

BigBadWalnut: That was all you.

BigBadWalnut: I had nothing to do with it.

KittyKat: What are you talking about?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I think that should work.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Lotus? You there?

WiseOldLotus: Yes.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Can you take a look?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: It’s the thing I was working on last week.

WiseOldLotus: Oohh, now I want to see, dear.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Is that a rune array?

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Mmmm… Containment, enhancing, fire, wind… So devious.

NoWinePlease: Impressive.

WiseOldLotus: Incredibly so, dear. You’ve improved a lot.

VeganIsTheAnswer: Why the durability rune?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: For the walls.

BigBadWalnut: I’m not much into runes.

BigBadWalnut: Will this really work, Lotus?

WiseOldLotus: If you manage to put it on the walls correctly and have someone that can activate them, it should.

BigBadWalnut: At this point, it’s not like we have many options left.

BigBadWalnut: Thanks anyway, Yoda. I’ll let you know how it works.

BigBadWalnut: If my emissary and I don’t die trying, that is.

KittyKat: So pessimistic.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: A real party, that one.

BeWaterMyFriend: Yoda?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Yeah?

BeWaterMyFriend: Would that work underwater?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Give me some specifics?

BeWaterMyFriend: Kappas.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Gimme a sec.

BeWaterMyFriend: Sure.

KittyKat: They’re giving you problems again?

BeWaterMyFriend: Not yet.

BeWaterMyFriend: But they always come back.

KittyKat: A failsafe then?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Lotus?

WiseOldLotus: On it.

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Normally I prefer rituals, but damn, that’s nice.

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: But why invert the array?

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Wouldn’t it have worked the same just changing fire and wind for water and electricity?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: No.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: On the last one, fire was for attack and wind to enhance.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: On this one, electricity is for attack and water to enhance, but not the electricity rune, the containment one.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: And I changed durability for permanence, so they last under water.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Also, I’ve noticed that fire and wind normally do better at the top of an array.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Water and Earth at the bottom.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: The rest I’ve tried (electricity and iron), do slightly better in the middle.

BeWaterMyFriend: Is there a specific way to place it?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Just link them.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Like that.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Preferably on an enclosed space.

BeWaterMyFriend: Don’t have that exactly.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Then a ward around the place you want to protect should do… At the base, I think?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Lotus?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I haven’t touched that part much yet…

WiseOldLotus: I’m not the expert at warding here.

WiseOldLotus: Weeds, I know you’re there. Stop watching and share with the rest of the class.

VeganIsTheAnswer: Don’t call me that.

VeganIsTheAnswer: At the base should do.

VeganIsTheAnswer: One at each of the focal points of the ward.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Wouldn’t that change the effect of the array?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: When active they would fry anything that comes near, friend or foe.“

BeWaterMyFriend: That doesn’t sound too good…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Like, if you include an element of intent on them…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Is that a thing?”

VeganIsTheAnswer: Interesting.

VeganIsTheAnswer: Yes, that can be done.

BeWaterMyFriend: Awesome.

Walnut comes back alive victorious and BeWater informs them of the success of their experimental warding. On three or four other instances, Stiles shares knowledge and gives help without asking anything in return, content just with the experience he gets out of them. And gradually, instead of trading information for a price, they all start sharing knowledge on wards, rituals, runes and creatures, enthusiastically theorizing and experimenting on how to mix their different areas of expertise.

BeWaterMyFriend: Yoda?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Wassup?

BeWaterMyFriend: Kappas attacked yesterday. The wards worked perfectly. Thanks again.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: You ok?

BeWaterMyFriend: Yeah. Not a scratch thanks to the wards.

BeWaterMyFriend: Everything stinks of fried frog, though.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Ahahaha. Cool.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I heard it tastes like a sea chicken?“

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Frogs, I mean.

BeWaterMyFriend: Not gonna try them.

BeWaterMyFriend: My name’s Ariel, by the way.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I don’t wanna be rude but just so you know, I’m biting my tongue right now out of respect.

BeWaterMyFriend: I know, I know. Ariel the mermaid. Hahaha… not.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: What color is your hair again?

BeWaterMyFriend: You’re such a dork…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Oh my God. You’re totally a redhead!

BeWaterMyFriend: Idiot.

BeWaterMyFriend: But I am.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Ahahaha.

BeWaterMyFriend: Yeah, yeah…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: It’s Stiles.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: My name, I mean.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Nice to meet you.

BeWaterMyFriend: You too.

And suddenly, Stiles is on a first name basis with some of the regulars, and running several private chats with them to ensure their privacy. Adrienne (Lotus), Marcus (Weeds), Joanna (LoveCatnip), Mariah (KittyKat), Daniel (Walnut), Ariel (BeWater), Pierre (NoWinePlease), Damon (EvilLaughter) and Meridene (Fly) make him feel like his opinion is worthwhile and that’s an awesome if baffling concept.

(It’s sad that the first time he actually realized why he was so happy, he nearly had an anxiety attack.)

Two more things happen on the months leading to Summer break: he starts crafting talismans and charms and the like, and he crosses paths with Peter Hale four times.

On the first front, things are going beyond well. When the stuff he makes reaches a certain level of quality, he sends them to Adrienne and company. They like them so much that they recommend them to people they know. And suddenly, Stiles has an online store on the Darknet for those things and is making quite a bit on stuff that, monetarily speaking, sometimes doesn’t even cost him a dollar to make.

On the second front, not so much and he’s pretty hesitant about how to proceed right now, to be honest. The first time he saw him across the street, he actually did a double take at how bad the man looked. And on the next three, it got even worse, and he was paler if possible, his bone structure marked horribly.

His feelings about the man have always been pretty conflicting, right from the start. Stiles is always honest with himself, and he knows that if he hadn’t bitten Scott against his will, and then attacked them, he’d probably not intervened at all in his revenge. Maybe, he’d had helped, even.

(Or accepted the bite.)

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Quick question.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: In a werewolf, what do these symptoms mean?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Paleness, rapid decrease in weight (marked bones), feverish eyes (possible actual fever), avoidance of very populated areas, trouble communicating…

BigBadWalnut: Could mean they’re just sick.

BigBadWalnut: It’s not usual, but werewolves can get sick.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: And if I add estrangement for their pack to that list? As in they are pushed to the side and just used when needed?

BigBadWalnut: That’s bad.

BigBadWalnut: They’re turning omega for sure. And if that last part is true, they’re probably hanging at the edge and continuously being pulled back.

BigBadWalnut: That’s torture, Yoda.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Just what I thought.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Some tips?

Stiles ponders what to do now.

“Hello, Peter.“

“What a nice surprise, Stiles. How have you been?”

“I’m going down, out of California, for the entire summer vacation. Not that my father knows that, of course. I created a fake summer camping website for the youth and have rerouted all the calls to my phone.“

“Good for you?“

“I’ve been told there are lots of magical stores hidden in the Mayan Temples and things like that.”

“And you tell me this why exactly?“

“You’re coming with me.”

“Am I now?“

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten. Be ready!”

And for good measure, he claps his hand on his shoulder, then he drags it down until he reaches the elbow, where he gives a squeeze. Then he scampers out of there, satisfied.

Peter is waiting for him at ten sharp the very next day.

The entire summer adventure is a crazy thing from start to finish.

The first week Stiles takes it easy, but not exaggeratedly so. If Peter is anything like him in that regard, and he’s pretty sure he is, pity or treating him as if he’s weak (even if he really is right now) is not the way to go. So he mostly drives himself, letting the man doze on the passenger’s seat, and makes sure to stop frequently to check on the towns with the excuse of searching for the markings. In some he finds them, but mostly he doesn’t. When he does find them, he makes sure to pay attention to the man, and sometimes he buys what catches his eye. But not always so it’s not very obvious what he’s doing.

After a week on the road, Peter starts to reciprocate the physical contact and even initiate it himself. He tries to make it seem like all those are casual touches and Stiles lets him have his pride and doesn’t call him on it.

Finally, they reach the border of Mexico and it’s obvious that he’s regained a few pounds on his frame. He’s still a little bit lethargic sometimes, but he’s getting there.

Then, three days later, it’s even more obvious that he’s feeling better, because the first thing Peter does at Lamanai is irritate a witch to the point of sending limestone golems after them. Stiles will concede, though, that if it wasn’t for the man, they wouldn’t have never gotten out of the forest alive. Stiles learns his lesson and masters everything he can about directioning runes and the like after that (and always keeps food and water in his backpack), just in case. They come in handy when he, to Peter’s amusement, is the one who irritates another witch at Coba, whom does exactly the same as the one at Lamanai. They reduce the forest wandering from three days to one, so Stiles is pretty happy to call it a success.

When they get back to the motel, Peter slips into his bed to sleep together like they’ve done at the forest. Stiles startles, but makes sure to grab the man before he springs from the bed. He forces himself to grumble a complaint about warning him the next time and pulls him back beside him. By the third night that they repeat it, it’s as if they’ve been doing it forever, and the contact relaxes Stiles almost as much as it does Peter.

The rest of the visits to the Mayan Temples of the zone go without a hitch, but on their way back, at Tapachula, Stiles hears rumors about a druid that hides in the pyramid of Uxmal or on its surroundings. It takes them an entire week to even locate the wards that hide him. By then Peter has recovered enough to be a constant source of sass and beautiful sarcasm. Stiles is as entertained as he is irritated, but he supposes it’s the same for Peter in regards to him, so he shrugs and goes on.

Losing a week it’s completely worth it because of their reward. The druid, Magnus, is totally off his rocker, but has a mind sharp as a Japanese knife. He doesn’t accept monetary payment for the knowledge he shares with Stiles, so they have to spend another two weeks helping him around.

As it is, summer break is almost over and they have to head back to Beacon Hills. As it is, they’ve saved each other’s necks a handful of times, Stiles has tons of new knowledge, Peter is sane and healthy, and what started as a form to avoid crazy Peter, take two, is now nothing of the like.

They’ve stopped on a motel for the night before they tackle the last leg of their journey. Stiles eyes Peter from above for a second before turning his attention back to the TV, where Gibbs is headslapping Dinozzo and McGee in quick succession. He snorts amused. Peter stirs for a moment and, after a second of hesitation, Stiles lays his hand on his hair gently.

He settles immediately.

“Look at you all tanned,“ his dad jokes as he hugs him. “Missed you, kiddo. How was camp?”

“Awesome,” Stiles grins.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Lo’ people!!!

BeWaterMyFriend: Hello there! How was vacation?

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Welcome~~~

WiseOldLotus: Welcome, dear.

VeganIsTheAnswer: And just in time. Perfect.

KittyKat: Not agaiiiiiinnnnn.

VeganIsTheAnswer has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

LoveCatnip: Oh, come on.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: What did I miss?

WiseOldLotus: That Weeds is a sore loser. But that’s nothing new, so I wouldn’t say you’ve actually missed anything.

VeganIsTheAnswer: For the millionth time, don’t call me that.

VeganIsTheAnswer: The picture, please.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Yeah, yeah.

WiseOldLotus has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

WiseOldLotus: In all fairness…

NoWinePlease: If you let them, they going to suck you in, Yoda.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Too late.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: I can’t hear you, but the tone is clear.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Share so the rest of us can have some peace.

NoWinePlease: You’ve been egging them on the whole time.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Semantics.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Muahaha, marvel at my brilliance.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Neither of you is right.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Ah, how I’ve missed you, Yoda.

BeWaterMyFriend: Aw…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Anyways, before I forget.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: People from Mexico, beware. The Calaveras are hunting something, so try to stay out the way.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Pass this on if there are people you normally see here that aren’t now.

And suddenly, sharing information is a thing they do too.

BigBadWalnut: Hey there, Yoda! Heard you were back.

BigBadWalnut: How did it go?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Perfect, thanks for the tips.

BigBadWalnut: Anytime.

He eyes Peter, who has sneaked into his room every night to sleep since they returned from their trip a week ago. They’ve had a couple of close calls with his father, but the man’s sharp hearing has saved them each and every time. Still, it’s no good on the long run, because they only sleep completely relaxed the days his dad has a night shift.

“What is it?” Peter says, fixing his attention on him.

“Just thinking.“

“Okay.”

“Okay?“

“I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready, so okay.”

Stiles smiles, turns off his laptop and climbs into the bed. It’s a tight fit, but he doesn’t mind the close quarters at all.

Peter doesn’t either.

WiseOldLotus: It should work if you invert it?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Tried that and the iron rune messes the whole thing up.

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Does it have to be only runes?

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly: Why not mix it with a ritual?

FlyMyLittlePrettiesFlyFly has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Gimme a sec…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: YES.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Look at this!

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry has shared a picture with the chat. Click to enlarge.

WiseOldLotus: Perfect.

PendejadasVarias: Excuse me?

PendejadasVarias: Thanks for the heads up about the Calaveras. That was in my zone.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Sure.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Glad it helped you.

PendejadasVarias: So I thought you’d like to know about something a cousin of mine told me about a man that’s baffling the doctors because of some rare sickness.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Okay?

PendejadasVarias: Apparently he has cancer and continuously vomits black goo.

PendejadasVarias: Don’t want to say names.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: And where was this exactly?

PendejadasVarias: Sorry, he didn’t know.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Thanks for sharing.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I gotta go.

WiseOldLotus: Stiles?

“Stiles?” Peter asks softly from his sofa. Today they’re at the man’s flat for the afternoon.

Stiles hates Gerard with a passion. He’s always been a pretty secure person about his own capacity to protect himself and the people he loves, but the man (and the alpha pack later) smashed that into smithereens. It’s taken him a while to recover what he had, and it’s been a journey filled with sleepless nights and even day terrors.

Now the comfort of knowing him dead is gone, and he’d love to say that he’s confident enough in himself right now to not be wary about the man being alive, but the real thing is he’s not. He really wants to make him disappear but it’s more for the sake of convenience. If someone else were to take care of the matter, he wouldn’t care about leaving the task to them. He’d be happy if he never saw that man again.

But for Peter…

Will he lose it again? Sacrifice anything and anyone for the sake of revenge? No, he decides, he won’t. Peter is exactly like Stiles with his loyalty. Even though Laura had abandoned to a crippled existence, he tried to talk to her first. When she betrayed him again, trying to hide her head in the sand and not avenging and getting justice for their pack, then, and just then, he killed her for all her transgressions.

So Stiles may not want to see Gerard ever again, but he’s Peter’s pack, and this is important. He’s going to be there with him every step of the way.

“We’re going hunting, Peter,” he announces, moving his chair to the side to let him see the screen.

He blinks surprised. As a rule, he always respects Stiles’ privacy, and especially he respects that Neverland is something that’s his alone. He gets up to read the chat that Stiles hasn’t closed, obviously wanting him to read it. He stiffens for a second before his face splits in a bloodthirsty smile.

He then lets his head fall to the crook of Stiles’ neck, and inhales deeply, nearly going boneless when the teen’s hand finds his way into his own neck.

“Get out of the way,” Stiles growls as he pushes Allison aside forcefully. Peter follows him inside.

“Do come in,“ Allison says sarcastic.

“Shut the fuck up. Where is your father?”

“Right here,“ the man answers from the right, gun in hand and pointing at Peter.

“Argent, right now my patience is gone, if you don’t stop pointing that at Peter, you’re not gonna like what I’m gonna do to you with that same gun.”

“Stiles!“ Allison exclaims horrified.

“I know you have a problem with impulse control, Allison, so I’ll do you a favor and let you get the fuck out. No? Then shut it or I’ll shut it for you.

“You come into my home…” Chris growls incensed.

“Where is he?“ He interrupts him harshly.

“What?”

“Where is your psycho of a father?!”

“What are you talking about? He’s been…“

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME.” Things start to rattle all around the room and Peter reaches to lay a hand on his shoulder. Stiles takes a deep breath. Chris has already grabbed a wide eyed Allison and pushed her behind him. “Where. Is. He.”

“He’s inoffensive right now, and bedridden.“

Allison looks at her father horrified. Stiles doesn’t give a damn.

“Either you tell me where he is, or I’ll denounce you to the Tribunal. Every and each one of you. And I’ll make sure they destroy your whole fucking family and raze it to the ground. Mark my words, because you can believe that there’s no evidence I won’t be able to find… or falsify.”

He tells him the address.

According to the log, Gerard has been gone for a month already.

A week later, the Hale house burns again.

Scott, after months of radio silence, sends him a text about a pack meeting at Derek’s loft. He considers not going, but he needs to know what they know, if they have any information that he doesn’t.

He eyes Peter.

Well, at the very least, going will let him make a statement about him.

The entire meeting not only is useless but an exercise in frustration too. First of all, Scott wants to talk to Gerard. The man has just burned a house (or what remained of it) to the ground, and he wants to try to convince him to change his evil ways. Secondly, they spend three-quarters of said meeting listening to him and Derek try to convince Stiles about Peter’s evil ways and how he’s manipulating him for his malevolent purposes.

Irony of ironies, Gerard is redeemable, Peter is not.

When they talk about sending Peter to Eichen, Stiles has had enough. He doesn’t even bother sugar coating his words.

“Peter is my pack,” Stiles growls, and then he wants to roll his eyes badly at the horrified murmurs that gets him. “I, not him, claimed him for myself. I went to get him after months of no contact with him because I wanted to. Get that into your thick skull.”

“That’s what he does, manipulate people into thinking what they’re doing is their idea, but it’s not."

“Of course he does that, I do it too. It’s called being cunning. But how exactly did he do it with me, hmm?”

“He talked…“

“Nope, no phone, no contact, and I barely left my house up until the summer break, and, guess what, my house was lined with mountain ash. Go on, tell me more. No? Okay, cool. Now that we have that out of the way, if I ever hear any of that nonsense of Eichen again, you won’t like my reaction, I swear to God.”

“He’s killed people, Stiles!“ Scott bellows.

“So have you,” Scott splutters wide eyed. “And the man you’re talking about letting have a chance to redeem? You can bet he has, and way more people than Peter ever has.”

“I-I…“

“But then again, Peter is not an Argent…”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?“

“That you’d do anything to get in Allison’s good graces, which, by the way, it’s totally a dick move for Kira, and she doesn’t deserve that. I’m out.”

“We could stop to get some curly fries if you want?“ Peter says as they turn to leave.

“Aw, Peter, my hero,” he sings smiling, getting impossibly close to him.

Peter tries to cover how elated he is about what just transpired but he is not very successful. Stiles rolls his eyes and the man finally grins.

By the time they finally manage to track Gerard, Stiles has a plan lined up.

“I’m not going to lie, sweetheart, but if we manage to pull this off, it will be…“

“Cathartic?”

“Exactly. Like poetic justice.“

“Glad you approve.”

“The only thing I don’t like is that I don’t get to set it in motion, but I’ll manage.“

“I’m sure I can think about something, if you want…”

“You’ve done more than enough, sweetheart.“

Stiles blushes and Peter smiles fondly.

Three days later, they seal the warehouse where Gerard and some other hunters are staying. Stiles hacks their phones to send them a message in Peter’s name before making them useless, just as Peter lights a symbolic match. They watch as the flame travels until it reaches the walls. When that happens, Stiles activates the array.

It works perfectly. No flames or smoke escape the warehouse, not even heat. Screams reach them almost immediately and Peter closes his eyes, a bittersweet expression on his face. Stiles sits beside him on the grass, almost impossibly close.

When they’re sure there are no survivors and that the fire has died down, not even the embers remaining, they call emergency services from a disposable phone. By the time they arrive, they are long gone.

Stiles also made sure that the police will find some things to identify the corpses… along tons of incriminating evidence about the illegal activities of the Argents. No matter if Chris isn’t actually involved, this covering stunt he’s pulled is not going to come free for the man.

Back at Peter’s flat, the man makes them lay at his bed and just cuddle. He breaths Stiles in, trying to memorize his unique scent. He recalls his neglected infancy, his ignored adolescence and his so far tortuous adulthood, and thinks, finally.

It’s taken thirty-five years, but…

… this is so worth the wait.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: You’re such a devious little shit, Yoda.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Whatever it was, it wasn’t my fault.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: What are we talking about anyways?

InsertEvilLaughterHere: About very incriminating evidence about a certain family…

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: They are scurrying like rats.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Awesome.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: In a totally uninvolved way, that is.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: I’ll keep you informed of the juicy bits?

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Yes, please.

A week later, when Stiles gets back home after a picnic in the preserve with Peter, he finds the Spanish inquisition in his living room. Scott, the pack, and even Deaton is there. By the look on his father’s face, Scott has told him everything, or his version anyway. He doesn’t show it outwardly, but he internally takes a deep breath to avoid doing something drastic like eviscerate Scott in his living room.

“Will you listen to me or will you do like you always do?“ he asks him calmly, face grim.

Whichever his facial expression is, it makes his dad bite his tongue and nod. Scott makes a move to protest and, not even looking at him, just at his dad, he takes his voice from him for five hours. No one tries to intervene after that. He speaks for a long time. Good and bad, he doesn’t leave anything out, completely and strictly honest about what’s been happening, even about Peter.

Especially about Peter.

As the last nail in the coffin, he sets a Skype call with Damon, putting some earphones and turning his back to the rest of the people in the room to protect his privacy. His dad listens to the FBI agent intently and not interrupting.

After everything is said and done, he waits for the verdict.

His father proceeds to kick Deaton and the pack from his house and then hugs him tightly. Stiles nearly goes weak on the knees at the relief that floods him.

“I’m not happy that you’ve been lying to me,“ he says, still hugging him, “and we’ll talk more about that at another moment. But for now, I’m damn proud of you, son, and I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t talk to me, even though I know that’s completely on me. Let’s change that, okay?”

“Okay.“

“I… I’m not happy about the thing you have with Peter, either, to be honest. But, since you say he’s been pulling his weight and that he’s saved you a couple of times, I’m willing to give him the benefit of doubt. Ah, damn, never thought I’d say this, but now I understand your grandfather’s attitude when a punk eight years older than his daughter came and stole her away. Just like you, she didn’t bulge either. But I don’t suppose there is a chance you’ll stop sharing a bed?“ Stiles negates with his head and John sighs long-suffering. “Okay, I can recognize a lost battle when I see one. But whatever you do, no more sneaking around, okay? Be upfront. And no sex until you’re twenty, no, thirty.”

“Oh my God, dad!“ Stiles flails flustered.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I never got to ask.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Fire baby!

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: Who the hell writes that crappy fanfiction????

NoWinePlease: That would be me.

Stiles flails and falls from the chair and Peter snickers from the bed. The teen doesn’t even pay him attention.

“Seriously? The who knows how old vampire?“ he mutters as he climbs back onto the chair.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: I know right?

InsertEvilLaughterHere: He says there’s a certain art in the unsalvageable works and the ensuing horrified incredulity it provokes.

NoWinePlease: It’s an art on itself.

NoWinePlease: My only regret is that I cannot witness the reactions of my readers. But that is a cross writers have to bear.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: In other words, he likes trolling people.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: See? He doesn’t deny it.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: Yoda?

InsertEvilLaughterHere: I think we’ve killed him.

InsertEvilLaughterHere: There you have the reaction you wanted to witness.

NoWinePlease: I am most joyous.

Do.OrDoNot.ThereIsNoTry: I have no words right now.

NoWinePlease: Thank you.